


Cagamosis

by apostapals (apostapal)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Other, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8453479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apostapal/pseuds/apostapals
Summary: Prompt fill. An unhappy marriage.





	

“I got you a present.”

Zevran leans on his elbow, watching her. Isabela goes fishing in her shirt front a moment, making a show of it in the middle of the bar, before coming up with a small bedroom key.

She holds it out to him with a little flourish. She’s gotten more graceful with the knife-work training, he notes, as he takes it from her.

“Oh, mi amor, you are too much.” he chuckles, twirling the little metal key between his fingers. “Where did you ever get such a lovely gift as this?”

Isabela just grins at him. “It’s mine.” she says, “To give as I please.”

This gives the Crow pause. His eyes linger over the key in his hands before going to her eyes. Isabela meets his gaze unflinchingly.

“Are you sure you wish to be… involved?” he asks.

“I’m not involved.” she replies casually, leaning back in her chair. “You snagged it off me after we slept together, right?”

Zevran raises a brow and nods before tucking the key into his pocket. He watches in silence as Isabela drains her ale mug before getting to her feet.

“Are you coming or not?” she asks, always impatient.

She deserves so much better than this place. It stinks of piss and ale–which doesn’t smell much different from the piss. Isabela is smart and beautiful and dangerous; perfect for the life of anything but a smothered housewife. He knows this better than even she knows it.

But life is never really its full potential when you’re a potential accessory in the murder of your spouse.

“What are you going to do after he’s gone?” he asks, still seated.

Isabela shrugs. She thinks, like she hasn’t already, and shifts her weight on her feet in an exaggerated gesture.

“Whatever I want.” she decides finally.

Zevran laughs and picks up his half-empty ale mug. He raises it towards her before downing the rest in one go.

“Well then,” he laughs, “so long as you’ve a plan.”

“No, no plan.” Isabela replies, cheeky grin spread across her face. “ _Plans._ ”


End file.
